


The Other Side of Paradise

by Crybabydoll01



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Crack Relationships, Doctor Haruno Sakura, F/M, Haruno Sakura is So Done, Hidan (Naruto) Swears, Ino Is A Good Friend, Smart Haruno Sakura, Smut, multiple chapters coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crybabydoll01/pseuds/Crybabydoll01
Summary: She was the perfect girl. A medical student with all the poise, professionalism and modesty that her peers and parents demanded of her. She made a single mistake, a drunken one-night stand that decided he didn't want to be just a one-night stand. She was the perfect girl. (hidasaku, hidan is kind of sweet for a mobster i guess.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been bouncing around my head for a couple of days and is kind of inspired by betty cooper and jughead jones I guess but the dynamic is obv pretty different but w/e. Might continue depending on if anyone's interested in more. I don't own Naruto. Enjoy.

She met him in a crowded, smokey bar in the middle of the night. Something about him was magnetic and she gravitated towards him on instinct. He was a grown man and he exudes everything that encompassed the phrase, she was hopeless. She was hazy with a belly full of sugary drinks and desperate to feel anything as she approached him. 

He was standing in a small group of other males, all equally unique-looking and she probably should have known something was off when she realized that all the other patrons seemed to skirt around the group, not even meeting their eyes. The man she’d been watching met her eyes as she closed the space between them and emerald met peculiar lavender as she dipped her head ever-so-slightly towards his face. He had a dangerous grin and a cigarette clasped between pretty lips, the others watched silently as she placed a hand on his chest, the cool leather of his jacket cool under her touch. She plucked the cigarette from his lips and took a small puff. She probably would have been hacking at the sting if she wasn’t a drink away from shitfaced. Instead, she smiled, curling a hand under his chin and meeting his eyes, his now darkened with something that made heat bubble in her belly and her thighs clenched tightly together. 

He smelled like musky cologne and it assaulted her senses as he seemed to take a moment to examine her flushed face, her red-tinged eyes, and her easygoing smile. She could sense the stares of multiple people at her back, burrowing into her with all sorts of different expressions. He took her chin with a large, calloused hand and she let her eyelids flutter shut as he tilted it back and to the side before his grin seemed to deepen, flashing a perfect set of straight, white teeth. 

“How fuckin’ drunk are you, pinkie?” He laughed, his voice deep and velvety, rolling off his tongue in a way that made her toes curl. 

“Very.” She grinned, though she could still manage coherent thought, she found her usual reservations were flying out the door as the seconds passed and she didn’t want to stop them. Her fingers danced softly, traveling higher on his chest. 

“Can I kiss you?” She breathed, noticing the way his eyes flickered to her lips. 

“You can do whatever the fuck you’d like.” He smiled, his eyes dancing with amusement as she pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss to his lips. She drew back, looking at him expectantly for a moment. In that time, he seemed to give her what she didn’t know she needed. 

Pulling her roughly to his chest, he crashed his lips over her own, he tasted like smoke and his tongue pushed past her lips and took dominance over her own. She was drowning in his scent and the warmth of his mouth on hers. When they pulled apart, she was panting, trying to catch her breath as everything about the man currently clutching onto her hip and holding her in his lap, something warm and hard pressing against her backside. 

The confidence in her voice when she whispered for him to come back to her apartment sounded distant, she could hardly recognize the voice that left her lips. It was sultry and wanting and the sound of his deep chuckles was like music to her ears. 

Persistent, she would her hand through his and tugged him out of the booth. He was saying something to the dark-haired man that was seated beside him, they exchanged words for a minute and he was suddenly standing at full height, the top of her head barely brushed his collarbone and his frame was broad, his shadow swallowing her entirely. 

He lowered his head to her ear, his breath hot and tickling the sensitive nape of her neck, “You sure about this?” he asked, the tone in his voice knowing as he was sure she wouldn’t refuse. She could blame her hastily affirmed ‘yes’ later on the drinks she’d been downing, but deep down she knew what she wanted and she knew he could give it to her. 

He wound a heavy-arm over her small shoulders and ushered her towards the door and into the frostbitten streets. People outside were gathered in small circles, drunkenly chatting and smoking cigarettes, not bothering to spare a glance at the two as they weaved through the streets, Sakura stumbling from time to time only to find the man’s grip had tightened around her, keeping her from tumbling to the ground. 

Her building was a small, four-unit complex not far from campus and she ushered him inside without worrying who may see, they climbed up the steps to the second floor and she stumbled with her keys for a moment as she unlocked her door. 

The second it swung open the man had whirled her around, grabbing her beneath the thighs and hoisting her up with ease, his lips found hers in the darkness and she was lost again in his kiss. He kicked the door shut and found her bedroom in the back of the short hall. 

She felt him grin against her lips when a small moan was passed between them and he dipped forward to drop her onto her bed, standing between her knees as he pulled off his jacket and slipped his tight V-neck over his head, his silver hair falling around his eyes as he towered over her. She scooted back on the bed to give him more space as his lips danced against her neck. 

He was covered in colorful, traditional tattoos that covered every inch under his neck, visible even in the darkness. Expert hands slid under her shirt and over her taut stomach, they were cool against her and she shivered in response, the heat between her legs becoming unbearable as he nipped at her pulse. 

He slipped her shirt over her head and stared down at her with hunger in his eyes. She smirked at his approval as he unhooked her bra, her soft globes bouncing free from their bindings as he cupped them in his large palms, a deep growl driving her wild as he placed soft kisses around her areola, never touching the pebbled peaks that were screaming for attention. 

She let out a gasp as his teeth sank down in the soft skin over her breast, it stung and brought her back from her mindless lust. She placed her hands in his hair and tugged experimentally. A low groan ripped through his lips and he took a pink nipple between his lips, his tongue softly swiping over her peak as her swollen lips parted and her moans started filling the darkened room. 

“Fuck,” he breathed through clenched teeth as she hooked a leg around his back, pulling his hardened length closer against her body. The pressure against her core was driving her over the edge and she ground hard against him, his grip traveled to her hips and he pressed her hard against the bed, halting her movements as he continued to suck on her breast before switching to the other, the cool air meeting her moistened peak was a whole new sensation and her breath caught in her throat as his lips traveled up her chest and to her shoulder before settling on the shell of her ear. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered, his breath fanning against her and making her feel lightheaded, “You tired of being a good girl?” 

She gasped as her skirt was lifted and she was flipped onto her stomach. He was backing off the bed and pulling her with him until her legs were pulled off the bed and she was bent over his lips pressed soft kisses to her back as his fingers rubbed between her thighs. He was whispering something to her, but over her quickening breath she felt lost to the world. 

When he finally pushed her soaked panties down her thighs and onto the floor, burying himself inside her with a half-restrained growl, she’d been too close to the edge not to tip over. He stretched her inner walls and she whined at the painful pleasure of his length. 

Her toes curled as he withdrew and thrust forward, hard enough to knock her bedframe hard against the wall. He hissed as her hips bucked to meet his hips, his hands clasping on her backside, spreading her to him as he continued his agonizingly slow thrusts, restraining her from quickening the pace herself. 

When he followed her climax she relaxed against her soft bedding, gasping for breath as he looped a hand around her chin, lifting her head as he buried himself inside her a second time, his length hardening inside her. 

“We’re not fucking done yet, sweetcheeks.” 

When Sakura woke up she was raw between the legs and a pounding in her head reminded her of the night before. She was pressed closely against a smooth, tattooed pectoral and she caught the scent of musky cologne, smoke, and sex. 

She peered up at the man, his face gentle in his sleep as her fingers itched to dance along his sharp jawline. 

Sakura Haruno was supposed to be a perfect girl. 

Then something inside her snapped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the comments. This is kind of a slow chapter but since the last chapter was so short I wanted to start world-building asap. As a side note, Sakura graduated when she turned 16, hence why she's starting her residency so early. The two missing years will be explained at a later date.

Her head pounded with a persistence and sting that made her nearly wince at its thunderous force. Pain reverberated through her skull and bounced around her frontal lobe. The sunlight peeking in through the crack in the curtains seemed to be almost defiantly washing over her face, blinding her in the process. 

She shifted haphazardly, with little regard for her sleeping companion as she rolled onto her side, yanking the drawer to her beside table open and hazily searching around for the familiar, cylindrical-shaped bottle of aspirin. Her stomach rolled as she popped a few of the little, white pills into her mouth. She took a moment to steady her breathing. She’d apparently skipped drinking enough water to keep hydrated after her drinking escapade and she was suffering for it. Her mouth practically watered with nausea and the bitter taste of sleep as she rolled in a rather unladylike fashion out of the bed, stretching her aching limbs and sighing at the little cracks and pops that escaped her joints. She felt raw between the legs and as she glanced at the still-sleeping male beside her, she counted herself lucky he hadn’t ripped her in half. 

She lumbered through her open doorway, nearly tripping over a stack of cardboard boxes yet to be unpacked, and pulled her long, tangled hair into a messy bun atop her head, squinting at the light that filled her small living room. When she rented the apartment, she’d loved the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated the far wall. Right now it seemed like the bane of her existance. 

She wasn’t a morning person to begin with and the hangover was only feeding into her condition. She popped a single-serving cup into her Keurig, a dark, nutty blend she’d made a regular part of her morning routine, shoving a ceramic coffee cup under the spout and letting her eyes roam over her living room with a tinge of annoyance. Textbooks were splayed out all-around the circular, plush rug that sat in the center of the room, hastily-sprawled writing swallowing pages upon pages of loose-leaf paper that sat in messy piles beside the books, color-coordinated with vibrant sticky notes. Stacks upon stacks of various files littered the hardwood floor, nestled inside manilla casings. Various writing utensils made for a dangerous minefield to unsuspecting feet, though she would argue she had a method to her madness. 

She started her residency today, she had morning classes before orientation, she needed to go to the grocery after the latter, she had an exam in two days and another group assignment she’d probably be completing alone, yet again, that was due by Friday afternoon. She also needed to go to the laundromat this week or she’d run out of clean underwear. 

She hadn’t worked a careless, one-night stand with a tattooed stranger into her schedule. 

Why was he still here, anyway? Weren’t one-night-stands usually creeping out the front door by now, like they did in the movies? He didn’t exactly strike her as a ‘stay for breakfast’ type of guy.

The Keurig hissed and sputtered for a moment before spitting out an uneven stream of brown-black liquid. She let the scent of freshly brewed coffee envelop her senses for a moment, a soft sigh of contentment escaping her swollen, pink lips for a second as she imagined a much less stressful venture waiting for her. 

She could hear the high-pitched squeak of her old bedsprings yowl as her formerly sleeping bedmate woke. Probably to the same unpleasant stream of sunlight she had. 

A loud, and rather jarring string of curses she’d hardly been able to place ever hearing before followed shortly after. She nearly jolted at the sound, her hot drink sloshing around for a moment at her sudden movements, luckily not giving her a third-degree burn in the process. 

She bent over the breakfast nook in her small kitchenette, staring out the window as she sipped her drink, trying to look casual as the sound of heavy footsteps approached from down the hall. 

He was large, imposing and swallowed her entire field of view. Her eyes drawn to the colorful markings that swallowed his entire body, ‘Lover Boy’ was written in large, black ink and circled the column of his neck. Ironic, she thought. He was hard not to look at, to examine. An achingly handsome man even in his waking hours, she noted.

He yawned, scratching the back of his neck for a moment before sliding his fingers through his thick, silver-hair, slicking it back and out of his face as he made his way around the short breakfast nook, nearly extracting a yelp from Sakura’s lips as he loomed over her shoulder, his body flush against her back as he plucked the half-filled cup from her dainty fingers, taking a long swig before setting the empty mug down on the counter, hunching down to rest his chin on her shoulder. 

“Tastes like shit, you don’t got some fuckin’ milk or sugar?” He yawned, voice husky and rough with fatigue. 

“I prefer it as it is.” She shrugged, slipping out from under his body and dropping her mug into the sink, she’d make one more cup before she left for class, but that would be after her ‘guest’ left. Which, hopefully, would be soon. 

“Mm.” He hummed mindlessly, rubbing his forehead with a loud groan, “Head is fucking killing me.” 

Sakura nodded in dismissive agreement, scooping up a few of her notes off the floor as well as a few of the case files before slipping them into an accordion folder with a soft yawn as she pulled the oversized, black shirt over her head, tossing it to the man as she stuffed the documents into her brown, leather purse. 

He caught the shirt with a single hand, slipping it over his frame and stretching his arms over his head for the barest of moments before hobbling drowsily back into her bedroom. She could hear various shuffling and the sound of his pants zipper and he emerged once again, clothes slightly wrinkled and hair messed atop his head, though she found the sight alarmingly pleasant, she did her best to keep her eyes elsewhere. The last thing she needed was to get starry-eyed over some random guy she probably shouldn't ever see again. 

“I need to head out, princess.” He yawned, peering at his phone for a moment before stuffing it into his back pocket with a sigh, “Shoot me a text later and we can get drinks or some shit.” 

She felt her shoulders tense but only uttered a tight ‘See you.’ lips unwilling to say ‘I’m the youngest surgical resident in nearly a decade to grace the doors of one of Tokyo’s top hospitals, and I don’t think cavorting around with a foul-mouthed, tattooed man would fit into my lifestyle’. 

He scrawled something down on a slip of paper and dropped it onto her countertop, wrapping a leather-clad arm around her head and placing a hard kiss to her cheek before heading for the doorway to slip on a pair of dark boots. 

She bit down the heat that threatened to blossom in her cheeks, she refused to look foolish. She’d shared a bed with the man, it would look childish to act like a blushing schoolgirl now. 

Her apartment felt somewhat empty and almost too quiet without his presence, but she could attribute that to the fact that she hadn’t entirely finished unpacking. It wasn’t in her nature to be lonely, at least it wasn’t supposed to be. Cold, calculated, refined and professional, everything a surgeon was supposed to be. It’s what she’d worked so hard for, that mask of perfection couldn’t slip- not now, not when she was on the cusp of everything she’d dreamed of, everything her parents had dreamed of for her. She had to make them proud. 

With a deep, calming breath she headed to her bathroom, taking a short, brisk shower and applying a thin coat of moisturizer, a tinted sunscreen to even out her complexion, a single coat of dark mascara and a quick swipe of coral-colored lipstick. Natural, even, neutral. She rubbed a small amount of heat-resistant oil through her long, petal-pink locks, blowdrying them into their natural, soft waves. 

She took a moment to examine herself in the mirror, pleased that though the sluggish and uncomfortable side effects of a night of drinking remained, it was easily concealed. She tugged a prized golden wristwatch over his dainty wrist, along with a pretty thin-chained bracelet, heading for her bedroom closet (nearly breaking her neck while trying to make her way through the maze of cardboard on the way) to get dressed. 

She decided on a white blouse, a pair of coffee-brown pants that stopped around mid-calf with a matching oversized-blazer that hung around her body and had a large soft beige and red plaid pattern, finishing the look with sensible, white heels. Sleek, modest, professional. 

Sakura Haruno was a perfectionist, she had to be. Any little mistake could cost her mask slipping, even a little bit. She needed to blend in, she needed it to keep her residency, to keep her scholarship. She couldn't begin to imagine what her mother would say if she was sent home.

She let her large, dark leather purse hand on the junction of her elbow as she sucked down a final cup of coffee, grabbing a pair of chunky cat-eyed sunglasses and yanking them down and over her eyes as she slipped through her door, locking it behind her and checking the knob twice (there were break-ins happening around her neighborhood, apparently.) before descending to the ground floor. Her apartment building was small, only four-units and as far as she knew, she was one of the two people that occupied the building. 

She lived only a few blocks away from her campus, a delightful coffee shop was in the middle of her route and she had plenty of time to spare so she found herself going inside. It was one of her preferred locations as even on weekday mornings it remained slow and comfortable. It’s decor simple and space open and minimalistic. It was one of those 'new age' hipster cafes that had been popping up all over town. 

The cute barista was a bonus. 

“Good morning, pretty lady.” He winked as she approached the polished, driftwood counter, peering at the day’s menu, all scrawled in colorful chalk. 

“An Americano and a scone, please.” She smiled sweetly. “For-” 

“Sakura, yes, I can remember things when I want to.” He smiled, his tanned, boyish features pulling into a friendly smile as he turned around to get started on her order. 

His name was Kiba Inuzuka, and he was just her type. Boyish, respectful, sweet and goofy. At least, that’s what she thought she was into- dark and brash men must be a drunken desire of hers. Though, it could have been an isolated instance. He had been the first man who’d caught her eye that night, she told herself. It could have been anyone. 

“You have a rough night?” Kiba questioned, pointedly looking at the dark frames that covered her usually vibrant, emerald eyes. 

She smirked and slid the glasses up into her hair, suppressing the painful wince that threatened to give her away as she flashed a bright smile, “I just thought it looked nice with my outfit.” She lied, noticing Kiba’s soft smirk as he slid her coffee across the counter. It warmed her fingers and she watched his soft-looking hands as he punched the keys on the cash register. Not many stores still used those old things, but she enjoyed seeing his hands work. 

“That’ll be six dollars and seventy-two cents.” He smiled, taking her baby-blue credit card and swiping it through the outdated machine that hummed loudly in response. When he handed her card back, his knuckles brushed against her own and she watched a small blush dust his sunbathed cheeks. 

“Do you have class today?” He questioned, his chestnut-brown eyes roaming over her for a second, he’d probably caught glimpse of the files that poked out of the opening of her purse, though she usually stopped by the cafe on the way to her university, so it was a reasonable if not silly question. 

“Of course, I practically live there.” She laughed somewhat forcibly, leaning on the counter as she took a long sip of the rich, caffeinated drink. Noticing the way his eyes flickered to her lips for the barest of seconds, her lips curled into a soft smile. 

“Yeah-” He stumbled for a second, eyes snapping to the register then back to her, “I forgot your scone,” he sighed, “Did you want blueberry or poppyseed today?” 

“Surprise me.” 

“Poppyseed it is, m’lady.” He laughed, slipping the still-steaming scone into a brown paper bag and sliding it across the counter. 

She opened her mouth to ask if he was doing anything after work, but something in her told her it was pretty morally ambiguous to ask a nice guy like him on a date after letting a giant, tattooed man raw you the night before (thankfully she religiously took her birth control). So she simply smiled once again, thanked him for his time and made her way back into the street, coffee in hand and a poppyseed scone (she did not, in fact, like poppyseed scones) stuffed away in her bag. 

She peered down at her wristwatch, finding she still had a bit of time before class started but she preferred to be one of the first to arrive, it made for good recommendation letters. 

She was surprised to see a few of her friends (read: two girls she had acquainted herself to) huddled together at the entrance of the university and she plastered on a vibrant grin as she slipped in beside Ame, a dark-haired heiress of some kind of logistics empire. The slender, tall girl was dressed in a designer coat that hung around her lithe frame, a French-style beret atop her head in the same shade of deep red as her coat. Ame’s hazel eyes slid to Sakura as her glossy lips twisted into a somewhat overexaggerated smile. 

“Bonjour, Sakura.” She smiled, in butchered French (though Sakura would make no comment to the linguistics major). 

“Good morning, Ame.” Sakura nodded, turning to the blonde on her left, “and to you, Timiko.” 

The blonde nodded to the pinkette, her eyes slipping down her outfit with obvious scrutiny before apparently approving- though begrudgingly. Timiko, bearing a sharp blonde bob and an immaculately designed outfit, in training to take over her father’s famous fashion label, was always a little skeptical of the noticeably younger scholarship student that was Sakura Haruno, though she somewhat concealed her skepticism on her better days. Today was not one of those days, it seemed.

“Good morning.” Timiko yawned, eyes buried in her cell phone as she seemed to mindlessly scroll through various social media for a second, her mauve, leather gloves apparently making the motion somewhat difficult if the slight curl of her thin upper lip was any indication. Truth be had, Sakura didn't much like either girl.

“Well, it was nice seeing you two. We should really meet up soon.” Sakura smiled, cocking her head softly before sliding past them and towards the crowded front entrance. She could hear them tiredly muttering something to one another once she was out of direct sight, and allowed herself a momentary sigh before neatly conducting her features into soft, but indifferent peacefulness. 

If there was one thing this illustrious academy had instilled into her, was that connections were everything. In a city like this, the world was a jungle and there was a clear hierarchy. Teachers would see her hanging around the children of the school’s biggest cash-cows and she was given more opportunities than usually allowed to scholarship students from rural nowhere towns (she was basically the only one). It was an unfortunate fact of life. To be perfect, one had to get along with everyone. She needed the approval of her teachers, otherwise, her lack of funding would only get her far enough to graduate- but without a job. Japan's medical field was oversaturated and to succeed you needed to stand out and know the right people. Hence Sakura's miserable social life, as much as she personally disagreed with the notion, it seemed all relationships were built on surface-level agreements. 

“Ah, Sakura, good morning.” Mr. Hatake smiled from behind his large, oak desk. His left eye shielded by a white medical patch per usual, lower face hidden by a matching medical mask. When she first started his class, she’d assumed he was taking preventative measures during the flu season (it had been winter when she started) but soon discovered it was simply a part of his usual dress. Maybe he was a germophobe? Regardless, she liked Mr.Hatake. His classes were also pretty direct and informative, which she appreciated. 

She took a seat in the front row, dropping her laptop and cell phone in the space in front of her. She had a few texts from her mother, as well as a few from friends in her hometown, with whom she felt no real kinship with (she wasn't particularly liked there). Just like her friends here. Not so surprisingly, she supposed. 

As the seats around her were quickly filled, Mr. Hatake went through the daily motions, going over the days' lesson and collecting last night’s assignment, though most mathematic classes (including the majority of his own) had after-school work done through an online server, he did occasionally send homework. Which, in the already overworked Sakura’s opinion, sucked pretty hard sometimes. Though, she decided her classes at the beginning of the semester and couldn’t complain. 

She felt claustrophobic between two, blatantly leering men from her class. The one to her left that was trying and failing to peer down her top, his name was Shuzo. He got in on a sports scholarship and daddy’s money and didn’t give much of a shit about his schooling, aside from finding girls to use and dispose of like trash. Total prick. 

Shuzo was the type of guy who was used to hearing ‘yes’, if not for his money than his social status as an up and coming athletic star. Though, she had little interest in adding him to her social circle as it would most likely include an uncomfortable, and ultimately unsatisfying, sexual encounter with the nearly braindead asshole. She wasn’t above making friends to make connections, but she was leagues above fucking her way to the top. She could get there on her own merit. 

On her right, some nameless brunette who took a few of her classes but kept mostly to himself. Neither good nor bad looking, she would have considered speaking to the guy if he too wasn’t entirely focused on whatever was under her shirt (her breasts), which pretty much made him a cretin in her eyes. 

The class concluded as it always did and she quickly packed up her things, as she was vaguely aware Shuzo was gearing up for a proposition, probably provocative knowing him, and she wanted to get out of sight as soon as possible. She offered a polite smile to the sly-grin wearing troglodyte before scuttling behind the group of rapidly receding students. 

Her second class of the day was relatively peaceful, they worked on suturing cadavers for an hour or so. As usual, hers were immaculate. She’d normally have biology and organic chemistry however as her orientation was mid-afternoon at Konoha Heart Trauma Center she would be pardoned from attending afternoon classes. 

While her university was right around the corner from her home, KHTC was another story. She’d made the short walk to the subway station (of which she didn’t particularly enjoy as it was often a minefield of grabby, wondering hands) happily surprised to see that the afternoon rush had ended and the train not as jampacked as usual. 

She kept her eyes on her phone as she double-checked her GPS, she was planning on an early arrival and it seemed less and less likely by the second. She hadn’t anticipated the center being in such a densely populated part of the city. Everyone was pushing and pulling in different directions and it was becoming increasingly difficult to find her way through the crowded streets. 

After what felt like hours (more like twenty minutes) of walking she met her fellow residents at the staff entrance, crowded into a tight bundle of anxious and excited faces all several years her senior. They eyed her with skepticism (one redhead telling her that ‘the public entrance was two doors over’ was now on her bad list for sure), though the pictured badge she’d been sent by the hospital served as a reminder that she was their equal. Something they still apparently held in question, even as their overseeing doctor approached. 

She was prepared to meet the legendary surgeon herself, but nothing prepared her for the busty, blonde Tsunade Senju, world-famous surgeon, and notorious hothead. Sakura's role model and career-idol. 

Sakura had changed into her plain, soft-blue scrubs in the university bathroom before she'd left for the day and she felt ready for anything. Electric jolts of excitement humming through her as the blonde’s eyes scanned the crowd, her dark eyes falling on Sakura a moment longer than the others. 

“Welcome to hell.” She grinned, hands on her wide hips as she offered a daring grin to the fresh-faced newcomers, some kind of fire blazing behind her eyes. 

Oh, hell yes.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dear god, what is that?” Deidara screeched, wanting to avert his eyes as he attempted to process the sight before him, sensitive, artistic eyes burning the image into his brain permanently. 

“That’s Hidan.” Sasori sighed, dull brown eyes idly examining his freshly painted nails as he watched Deidara’s face shift through several different phases of disgust, horror, and anger. Though he sympathized, there was little to be done about the situation at hand, he’d tried.

Sitting amidst a pile of freshly pulverized corpses all clad in the tell-tale snake insignia of their organization, stood Hidan in all of his bloodied, gory glory. A bloodstained (and maybe gray-matter?) bat resting on his broad shoulder as he swiped at a spatter of the coppery red liquid on his cheek, an eerie grin tugging at his features. A true sadist, he seemed quite pleased with the mess he’d made. 

In all this horror, what really stood as an affront to the two’ artists, was the purple camouflage jumpsuit he was wearing, with a faux fur hood in the most disgusting shade of orange Deidara had ever seen. Sickening, inhuman, unbearable. 

“That is the worst thing I have ever seen, yeah.” Deidara cried into his palm as he tried to avert his cerulean eyes. 

“I’ve seen worse, unfortunately.” Sasori sighed, flicking a hair-laden piece of human scalp from his coffee-brown cardigan as his lackluster gaze shifted to the now thoroughly pleased Hidan, brushing back tufts of silver hair with slick, pale hands. 

“These fuckers were fun,” He exclaimed, lifting the hem of his (abhorrent) sweatshirt to reveal a swath of dark, yellowing bruises blossoming in his midsection, “Dropped like fuckin’ flies too.” 

“Yes, Hidan. We’re aware.” Sasori sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he motioned to the young blonde still standing in horror beside him, “This is the new recruit, Deidara.” 

Said new recruit was just now coming out of his melodramatic breakdown as he straightened out his form and began shuffling around in his messenger bag, a grin now tugging at his slightly sun-chapped lips. 

“This pussy? Fuck, I’ve seen girls with less hair.” Hidan snorted, climbing over the pile of gore with little regard for his shoes, a steady dripping sound bouncing around the (luckily) secluded alley as he came to stand beside Sasori, obviously scrutinizing the blonde newcomer with skepticism shimmering in his lavender eyes. 

“We’d better move back,” Sasori commented as his blonde companion seemed to find what he was looking for. 

“Huh? What the fuck for-” 

Sasori was making a steady pace toward the mouth of the alley, drowning out Hidan’s words by humming some jazz song he’d become particularly fond of recently. Hidan watched the redhead with obvious annoyance, sparing a final look to Deidara before joining Sasori in the little space that lead into the alleyway. 

He didn’t have a fondness for most newcomers, but he liked the crazed look in the kid’s eyes (the one he could see through that damn hair, at least.) 

What followed was an earth-shaking explosion that sent a wave of heat through the alleyway the likes of which Hidan had never felt. Smoke filled the small space and the smell of burning human flesh was overpowered by the explosion’s smokey and bitter scent. 

Face smudged with black ash and debris, Deidara emerged from the dark haze, a pair of goggles resting over his eyes and a pleased and weirdly satisfied smile tugging at his lips. 

“Not even a scrap of evidence left behind.” He sighed happily, sliding the goggles up his face as he wiped his face with the back of his palm. 

“An explosion wasn’t necessary.” Sasori sighed, voice disinterested despite the way his usually half-lidded stare was currently pulled into sharp slits. 

“That’s my art,” Deidara snapped, pulling the rest of his long, blonde hair into a high ponytail, “Leaves no evidence behind.” 

“This idiot is going to have every fucking cop in the city on our asses!” Hidan hissed to the redhead beside him, pointing his bat towards the blonde who was still looking too happy for his liking, noticing the way the kid seemed to tense at his movements. 

“So what, there’s nothing for them to find.” Deidara shrugged, clearly trying to look less frightened than he was feeling but Sasori seemed to lose the edge he’d held earlier and Hidan was starting to think it had to do with the weirdo artists' connection to the other weirdo artist. Favoritism at its worst, in his opinion. 

“We need to leave,” Sasori said as he turned on his heel, he’d parked towards the edge of the alley and it would be little trouble to leave before they were spotted. This side of town was rarely occupied by the kind of people who’d want the police there, explosion or no. 

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Hidan groaned, though he continued to follow the redhead as he plopped into the driver-side seat of his car. Deidara climbed into the back after discarding his sooty jacket in the trunk. 

As Hidan went to the passenger seat, he was loath to find that the redhead had locked the door and was now staring at him expectantly from behind the tinted-glass window. 

“What?” 

“You aren’t getting into my car like that,” Sasori responded in the flat, serious tone he seemed to exclusively speak in. Hidan swore he was some kind of robot sometimes. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘like that’? We need to fucking leave are you seriously going to do this now, you fire-crotched little pissant?” Hidan demanded, fuming as Sasori just continued to stare at him expectantly. 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me… sick of this bullshit... goddamn artist dickholes always...my nice fuckin’ clothes… stupid shits…” 

Hidan’s incoherent grumbling could be heard as he stripped his bloodied clothing away, dropping it into the tarp-lined trunk in Sasori’s car, along with his bat. He was left in his boxer-briefs but stood proud as he walked back around the car and found that this time, the passenger door was unlocked, Sasori looked pleased with himself as he flexed thin, pale fingers over the leather wheel. 

“Fuck you, drive.” Hidan snarled, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he averted his eyes towards the window, trying to imagine different ways to scalp the blonde in the backseat to pass the time. 

Peering down at his phone, Hidan felt his brows knit slightly together. No new text messages. What the hell was taking her so long? She was all over him last night and he knew damn well he didn’t leave her unsatisfied so what the fuck was up? He was sure he put down his number the right way, maybe she was just busy or something? 

The drive concluded in silence, ending in a darkly lit parking garage just down the street from a local mortuary. 

As they climbed out of the vehicle, all three noticed the eerily empty streets. Not that this area got a lot of foot traffic, but there were usually at least a few people (usually old drunks and vagrants) shambling their way down the streets, but tonight it was dead silent, despite the array of vehicles that lined the main street. 

“Think it’s a sting?” Deidara whispered, his blue eyes locked on the street as he produced a scope from his pocket, placing it over his right eye, Hidan and Sasori watched him twist the lens for a few moments, his shoulders tensing as he turned back to his comrades, lips tight. 

“I’ve seen this shit before, there’s swat nearby, the cars are all generic and new rentals. Beginners mistake so they definitely aren’t sure of anything yet, or they would have gone all out. There are probably dashcams keeping an eye out for anyone coming down the street, the cameras have a short bandwidth so there’s a good chance they’re nearby, probably in one of the residential spots.” He concluded, eyes shifting to Sasori, “What do you want to do?” 

“Shit,” The redhead grumbled into his palm as he quickly sent a text to Pain, if there was a bust he needed to be ready for any fallout, “We need to get Kakuzu and the money before we go. If they catch him with all that cash they’ll want to know where it came from.” He lamented, feeling as though this was a situation that couldn’t possibly have a favorable outcome.


End file.
